She Will Have No Other But Him
by Keira-House M.D
Summary: Albert has come to realise that his family's matchmaking is futile. Because he accepts what they will not – while Melbourne is around Victoria will never look at anyone else. Victoria/Melbourne


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the historical characters in Victoria nor do I own the TV series which was written by Daisy Goodwin. Any lines from the show are also not mine and are just borrowed from Daisy Goodwin and ITV Victoria.**

* * *

" _As to tomorrow, Lord Melbourne and I have a great deal of business to attend to. Don't we, Lord M?"_

" _Oh, yes, Ma'am. The dispatches from Afghanistan will require your complete attention."_

"Drina," scolds her mother, "surely your business can wait one day, or I am sure Lord Melbourne is capable of dealing with any dispatches in your absence."

"Lord M is more than capable," Victoria agrees, "but alas he is not the queen – there are many papers that require my signature and you know I must understand what it is I am signing."

"Still, I am positive you can manage a day," the Duchess insists.

"Mama, no!" Victoria says rather severely, "perhaps if I had been given notice to expect the princes I would have been able to ensure that my schedule had more time free. As it is I am so very busy at the moment. I am sure you can entertain my uncle and cousins without me, though of course we shall arrange a little dance one evening."

The duchess flushes at her daughter's veiled reference to the princes' visit, which has not been sanctioned by her and which she appears in fact to find very unwelcome.

Melbourne's mouth twitches into a slight smile at the queen's candid comments and King Leopold scowls at him, placing all the blame for his niece's intransigence onto her Prime Minister.

Victoria senses the growing tension in the room and, not wishing to endure more of her mother's blatant matchmaking, rises abruptly and announces her intention to retire.

"It is so early, Drina," he mother protests.

"And I am tired," Victoria counters.

She turns to her Prime Minister, "Lord M, I must speak with you on a few matters of business before I retire. Would you accompany me to my study?"

It is a question but Melbourne knows there is only one reply he can give – he finds it difficult to deny her anything and though he feels the scrutinising glances of the duchess, princes and King Leopold he does not let them intimidate him.

"Of course, Ma'am," he says and she smiles gratefully.

Lehzen moves to follow them but the queen shakes her head, "no need to accompany me, Lehzen."

Victoria's old governess' eyes narrow in suspicion, the duchess purses her lips and Leopold mutters angrily under his breath.

The queen takes no notice.

* * *

"This is a fool's errand," Albert says to his brother.

It has only been minutes since they greeted the queen, and seconds since she left the room, but Ernest already knows that Albert's pessimistic outlook is quite possibly right.

* * *

"What matters of government did you wish to discuss, Ma'am?" asks Melbourne once they have settled into their seats in the study.

"Oh that can wait until tomorrow," she says, "I just had to get out of there and away from mama's attempts to push me at cousin Albert. But of course it is far too early to retire – I needed an excuse but I not wish to actually go to sleep yet."

"Uncommonly sneaky of you, Ma'am," he teases, knowing how she is usually refreshingly blunt (sometimes a little too much).

"Well mama _would_ spring them on me. It is unconscionable for her and uncle Leopold to conspire in bringing the princes here against my express wishes."

"Do not be too quick to judge the princes, Ma'am," warns Melbourne, "they may surprise you."  
"They have surprised me enough already," she grumbles, "by arriving with no warning. Ernest seems cheerful enough, I will admit, but Albert is so severe and awkward."  
"Well," Melbourne says, "I admit that I do not believe marriage between first cousins is wise. But the duchess is, I am sure, only trying to help."

His excuses for her mother sound weak even to his own ears but he is her minister and he must try to give her unbiased advice, difficult as that sometimes is.

"Mama means well," Victoria concedes, "but she is too much led by my uncle Leopold's desire for a match between myself and Albert. I had thought that Sir John Conroy's departure would bring more sense into her but I fear I was mistaken."

She sighs, "but I do not wish to discuss mama or uncle Leopold or cousin Albert, not tonight."

She seems tired, Melbourne thinks, a little worn out by her family's matchmaking and the stress of her position.

He wants to reach out, to grasp her hands and try to offer some measure of comfort. But he thinks of Brocket Hall, of how surely she must marry soon, how it cannot be him she offers her hand to.

"Will you tell me about your greenhouses?" she asks, "you've given me such beautiful flowers and I feel I ought to know more about them."

She pauses a moment to allow a small, playful smirk to grace her features, "although dear Emma has already informed me of the meaning of white orchids."

She laughs a little as he blushes but does not say anything further and he finds he is not too embarrassed – their feelings for one another are, he concedes, already quite plain.

"Well, Ma'am," he begins, "the greenhouses are a peaceful place to spend a few hours, though one must of course be careful of thorns …"

She smiles contentedly as she leans back into her chair.

This, here with him, is the perfect ending to her evening.

* * *

"Has the queen not risen yet?" asks Baroness Lehzen.

"Her Majesty stayed up till two talking with Lord Melbourne in the study," Skerrett replies, "she is not yet awake."

Albert, passing the two on his way to find Ernest, clenches his fists.

So much, he thinks, for her supposed exhaustion.

* * *

"I do hope you found something to amuse you today," says Victoria as they eat dinner, "Lord M and I were so busy with the army lists."

"Yet you still found time for an hour's ride," chides the duchess.

Victoria barely stops herself from rolling her eyes, "I must have fresh air and exercise, mama," she says, "and besides, we were speaking of parliamentary matters during our ride."

She almost wants to add a 'so there' to the end of her sentence but she is well aware that such immature digs are not becoming of a queen and so she restrains herself.

"Albert and I visited the National Gallery," says Ernest, "we are quite the tourists."

"Oh, did you see my portrait?" Victoria asks, "the one by Hayter. I think it is my favourite."

She shares a secret smile with Melbourne – they both have fond memories of the day that painting was revealed, the day Melbourne's temporary (but still too long for the queen's taste) resignation came to an end.

"No. We went to look at the Old Masters. There is a very fine Rubens."

"I don't care for Rubens at all," says Victoria, not noticing Albert's grimace at her words.

"Drina," says the duchess, "perhaps you might show Albert and Ernest the gardens tomorrow."

"Oh I cannot spare any time tomorrow, mama," Victoria replies, "the dispatches continue to arrive and I believe they will keep Lord M and I quite busy for at least the next two or three days."

She turns to her cousins, "I am sorry but of course mama can show you the gardens – they are very beautiful, I think. And we shall have a little dance tomorrow evening to celebrate your visit."

The duchess frowns at the failure of her plans to have her daughter and nephew spend the day together.

Victoria turns towards Melbourne and engages him in a long conversation about Brocket Hall.

Albert sits quietly and wonders why he has bothered to come to England.

* * *

" _Oh... dear Lord M! Thank you for the flowers. They're as beautiful as ever."_

" _The glasshouses of Brocket Hall are at your service, Ma'am."  
_

Albert watches them, the intimacy in their greeting, the smiles on their faces.

Ernest wishes for him to ask the queen to waltz but he hesitates. This whole country makes him ill at ease and his attempts to get to know the queen are not going at all well. He knows she will not greet him with nearly so much enthusiasm as her precious Lord M and he does not wish to court further embarrassment by seeing her reluctance if he asks her to dance.

Ernest gives him an encouraging look but it is already too late.

Lord Melbourne makes a bow to the queen, who takes his hand with no hint of the reserve or distaste she shows to Albert in their interactions.

The prince turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, ignoring his brother's pleas and his uncle's glare.

He sees no point in remaining.

* * *

The day after the ball she holds in honour of the princes, Victoria goes out riding with Lord Melbourne.

"Ernest seemed to enjoy himself," she says, "and he is an excellent dancer. But Albert! He did not dance even once and he left so early. It seems he is just as he was when I saw him all those years ago, though he may be a little taller."

"The prince does not like dancing," Melbourne reminds her.

"He did not have to dance all night," Victoria counters, "but to leave so soon without dancing a single time is really quite rude. I have tried to find something he is interested in but he dislikes balls and when I asked him about the gardens all he could say was that he prefers forests. We all have to do things we do not like sometimes."  
Melbourne laughs a little and raises an eyebrow at her. The queen, he knows, is rarely enthusiastic about meetings with ministers she is not fond of or visits she would rather avoid.

She purses her lips in annoyance at his laughter but her momentary bad mood cannot last – it never does with her Lord M around.

* * *

"I think," Albert says to his brother, "that it is time we returned home."  
"We have not even been here a week," exclaims Ernest, "surely you do not mean to give up the fight so soon."

There is nothing to give up," Albert retorts, temper flaring, "that would imply that I ever had a chance. Surely you must see that the queen has eyes only for _him."  
_ "Lord Melbourne is old enough to be her father," Ernest scoffs, "she _likes_ him to be sure but there is no reason why she cannot _love_ you."

Albert shakes his head. He has come to realise that his family's matchmaking is futile. Because he accepts what they will not – while Melbourne is around Victoria will never look at anyone else.

And Albert has his pride. He will not beg for scraps of kindness from the queen, will not wait and hope for her to look at him with even a fraction of the delight she exudes when she sees Melbourne.

"It is time," he reiterates to Ernest, "to go home. Victoria and I are not suited."

Ernest sees his brother's resolve and knows he will not change his mind.

"Very well, Albert," he agrees, "but you must be the one to inform our uncle."

Albert grimaces. Ernest laughs.

* * *

"I did not mind the princes so much," Victoria tells Melbourne as they stroll through the gardens together, "and I believe them to be good men. I am glad they have gone, however, for at least now mama will have to stop trying to force me into their company. It is better, I think, that they did not stay too long hoping for what I would not give. Albert may be overly serious but he has a brain and chooses to use it – unlike my uncle, who seemed to think that if they all stayed long enough I would suddenly change my mind and fall in love with Albert."

"You did not find Prince Albert at all engaging?" asks Melbourne.

"He improved on further acquaintance," she admits, "but we are far too different – we would never have had one of those truly happy marriages that I _will_ continue to aspire to no matter what mama says about duty and suitability."

Melbourne smiles at her fierce determination, but his expression turns wary as she reaches out to clasp his hand in her own.

"Ma'am," he warns, looking around for any watchful eyes that might spot the inappropriate contact.

"The bushes are all they can see," Victoria insists, "you worry far too much, Lord M."

"I believe," he says, "that often I do not worry enough."  
But he does not pull his hand away from hers.

She grins and they continue their walk.

* * *

"Twenty years of work," Leopold grumbles to his sister, "completely down the drain. That damnable Lord Melbourne has a lot to answer for."

"Drina has always been headstrong," the duchess says, "perhaps we ought not to have pushed so hard."

"Does she really imagine that man can ever be more to her than her Prime Minister?"

"He is more already," the duchess admits, "and Drina will not have her mind changed, not about something like this."

"It is quite impossible," Leopold says, "surely she knows that."

Improbable, perhaps, the duchess thinks, but her daughter is strong and stubborn. She will make her own decisions, whether her family like it or not.

* * *

"This is where you broke my heart," Victoria says, almost conversationally, as she and Melbourne stand and watch the rooks at Brocket Hall.

Almost a year has passed since that day but it remains vivid in both of their minds, a milestone in their relationship.

He looks distressed and hurt at her words but she places a hand on his arm and smiles at him, "I understand, Lord M, I know why you said what you did. But I must tell you that my feelings have not changed – you are still the only companion I desire, still the one I love. I told you that you had my heart and that statement is still true."

They stand there in silence, his eyes wide and hers pleading.

They have not spoken so openly of their feelings since her confession at Brocket Hall and his at the ball that followed. Now it seems to him that the queen is refusing to let him hide from the issue any longer. He cannot pretend to be surprised – she has been more patient than she usually is, after all.

"You know my feelings, Ma'am," he says, "but you also know that this cannot be. No one would accept it."

He leans down to cup her face, "Ma'am … Victoria," he almost whispers, "I wish things were different, but I will not allow you to jeopardise yourself and your position, not over me."

She looks up at him and he can see dampness at the corners of her eyes, a single tear dropping onto her cheek.

He cannot help it. He stoops to kiss the tear from her cheek, wishing to remove the sign of her sorrow.

There is a slight hitch in her breath as his lips touch her skin and it is too much for her to bear.

"Why will you not accept me?" she cries, "there is no one else, dear Lord M, there will _never_ be anyone else. They will see, I will make them all see that this is the best thing. Surely they cannot think that no husband is a better alternative to you."

He smiles sadly at her, "they believe you will find someone else."

"I will not!" she says indignantly, and he believes her, believes the determination in her eyes.

And he cannot stand against such a feeling – he barely restrains himself from expressing his adoration in ordinary circumstances but this open, heartfelt appeal breaks down every one of his barriers.

He has only ever wanted what was best for her, wanted to make sure she was happy. Perhaps it is finally time he accepts that maybe _he_ might be the one to make her happy.

He knows the trials they must face are numerous, knows that some will consider his actions treasonous.

But what can he do – she is the sun in his life, the spark that helps bring him to life. She is the woman who has taught him to love once more.

He kisses her, his lips on hers a glorious feeling he can scarcely believe he is allowed to experience.

And that kiss decides it all.

It will be an arduous road, this path they have chosen.

But it will, they know, be more than worth it.


End file.
